Wayne
by Smitty91
Summary: Simon and Theodore seek revenge against the man who ruined their lives.
1. Chapter 1

Wayne

Chapter 1

Dave picked up his phone as it rang. "Hello?"

"Yes, who am I speaking with?" a male voice on the other end asked.

"Dave Seville."

"Dave, listen, my name is Wayne Watkins. My boy Wesley works with your boy Simon, I believe, down at the auto shop."

Dave nodded. "Yes."

"Listen, he sold my boy one of them AM/FM cassette decks for his car here awhile back. And my boy got stopped last night for a bad taillight."

"Yeah?" Dave said.

"And they spotted that cassette deck lying in there in his front seat, and they found out that it was stoled."

Dave raised an eyebrow. "My boy sold your son a stolen thing?"

"By God."

"And you're sure it was – I don't believe that's right. But I'll – he's in bed right now."

"By God, it was hotter than a firecracker."

"Well, he didn't have ––"

"They got my boy Wesley incarcerated down there and they need two hundred dollar bail money."

"You're sure – where's he incarcerated at?" Dave asked.

"Down there at the jail," Wayne replied.

"In Flint County?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, Pittsburgh is just north of us, so I thought it might have been Bone County."

"No, he's there in Flint County. They stopped him last night."

"Wait a minute, let me get a pencil ––"

"I need two hundred dollar bail money, and then the fifty dollars your boy Simon cheated him out of that tape deck that was stoled."

"Let me – let me get this information here."

"It's either that or I'm comin' over there and I'm whoopin' his ass."

"You aren't whooping anyone's ass, man!"

"By God, I'll be over there in a New York minute. He sold my boy a stoled cassette deck."

"A stolen cassette deck . . ." Dave shook his head.

"How big a feller is this Simon?"

"He's about six feet."

"Well, that ain't gonna fend me off too much."

"And what is your name?"

"Wayne Watkins. Jeffrey Wayne Watkins. That's W-A-T-K-I-N-S."

"W-A-T-K-I-N-S," Dave repeated, writing it down.

"Yes, sir. I'll be the feller that's P.O.'d when I get there. How do I get to where you're at?"

"How do you get – you're not coming to where I'm at. I'm calling a lawyer."

"Ain't gonna be no lawyer; he got a hot cassette deck ––"

"My son never sold your son a hot cassette deck! He's never been in trouble in his life!"

"Well, by God, he is now!"

"Well, maybe to you he is, but to me he isn't! I'm going to find out what's going on!"

"When's the last time he had his ass whooped?"

"Excuse me, when's the last time he had what?"

"His ass whopped."

"My son's never had his ass whipped."

"Well, that might be the problem then."

"What kind of – hey, listen, you don't call people and talk to them this way! I am his father! I will find out what's going on and I will call you back!" And with that, Dave hung up the phone.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The "hot tape deck" incident, as it had come to be called, was resolved rather smoothly. After interrogating Simon regarding the exchange with the Watkins boy, Dave called Wayne back, telling him that he wasn't going to pay for his son to get released from jail. "Looks like you're on your own on this one," he had concluded the call with, and hung up.

A week or so later, Dave received another phone call from Wayne.

"Yes, sir, this is Mr. Dave Seville?" the man asked.

Dave nodded. "Yes?"

"Listen, how do I get to where you're at?"

Dave scowled. "You're not coming to where I'm at."

"The fuck I ain't. Your boy owes my boy fifty dollars."

"No, he doesn't."

"The fuck he doesn't. How do I get to where you're at?"

"I told you, you're not coming to where I'm at."

"Watch and see if I ain't. I'm comin' over there to get that fifty bucks your son cheated my boy out of 'cause o' that cassette deck."

Dave grinned. "Go ahead, big boy. I dare you. I'll be waiting." He hung up.

It was an hour or so later when Dave heard a knock at the front door. Opening it revealed a tall, dark-skinned man with a head of charcoal-gray hair and a mustache of the same color. His eyes were brown. He wore a striped dress shirt, tight-fitting dark blue jeans, and dark brown cowboy boots. He a beer belly that hung over the buckle of his belt. There was a much younger man standing next to him. His skin was much whiter. He had a head full of light brown hair, brown eyes, and bits of facial hair surrounding his chin, cheeks, and below his sideburns. He wore a bright orange t-shirt, light blue pants, and white sneakers. Dave fixed them with a curious look, looking them up and down, before inquiring, "Uh, can I help you?"

"Where's the boy?" the man asked. "Your boy owes me fifty dollars."

Dave shook his head and started to close the door. "My boy doesn't owe you anything." Hearing a thud, he looked down to see that the man had stopped the door with his foot. Dave snapped his gaze back up. "Leave now or I'm calling the police."

The man shook his head. "I ain't fuckin' leavin' 'til I get my goddamn money. Now you either fuckin' go get your boy or I'm comin' in there and I'll fuckin' go get him."

Dave sighed. "Why don't we discuss this over dinner? I was just about to call the boys down for dinner anyway. You're welcome to join us."

The man turned to the young man beside, who was evidently his son, and the boy nodded in agreement. Dave stepped aside, widening the door to let them in, then turned towards the stairs, cupped a hand over his mouth, and hollered, "Boys, dinner's on the table! Come and get it!" Turning, he led the two gentlemen into the kitchen, and soon the thundering footsteps of his children could be heard.

All three Chipmunks turned to enter the kitchen, only to stop dead in their tracks upon seeing the two gentlemen seated at the table. They shared a bewildered look with one another, before entering upon seeing Dave motioning for them to sit down at the table.

"Theodore," Dave said, "would you care to say grace tonight?"

Theodore cupped his hands underneath his chin and bowed his head, and Dave was surprised to see the two gentlemen bow their heads.

"And that's my cue to leave," Simon said, standing up. "I think I'll go wash up."

The two men, seeming to be intrigued by this statement, suddenly looked up and watched Simon leave the room and go upstairs before bowing their heads once again. As soon as Theodore was done praying, Simon returned, with the sound of the toilet flushing announcing his arrival. He sat back down and immediately started digging in along with the others.

"So," Dave said, lifting his glass to his lips, "I believe introductions are in order." He nodded to the two men sitting across from him and his boys.

The older of the two looked up, chewing a piece of meat, and looked directly at Simon. "Name's Wayne Watkins. I believe you work with my boy Wesley down at the auto shop, don't cha?" He nodded towards the younger man sitting beside him.

Simon nodded, chewing a bit of mashed potatoes. Swallowing, he said, "Yes."

The man identified as Wayne gave Simon a glare. "Yes what?"

Simon immediately replied, "Yes, sir."

Wayne nodded. "That's better." He looked over at Dave, shook his head, and scooped up a bit of mashed potatoes and put it in his mouth. "Kids today . . ." he mumbled.

Dave cleared his throat. "These are my boys." He pointed them out individually as he listed them off. "Alvin, Simon, and Theodore. Boys, can you say hello, please?"

All three Chipmunks greeted the two men, though not very enthusiastically.

"So, guys," Dave continued, " how was school?"

Alvin grinned, trying his best to resist laughing. "You should've been in gym class today. AJ Rumph kept falling all over himself during the shuttle run." From beside him, both Simon and Theodore snickered to themselves. "That black boy can't run to save his life."

This statement seemed to have caught Wayne's attention. "He a nigger?"

The boys suddenly stiffened. An uncomfortable silence suddenly filled the room, causing the three Chipmunks to fidget and look around awkwardly.

"No, he's black," Alvin said.

Wayne nodded. "Yeah, he's a nigger."

"No, he's black," Alvin said. "The proper term is black."

Wayne shook his head. "No, ya call 'em niggers. At least ya did back when I was growin' up. Back when I was growin' up, ya called 'em niggers." He shook his head. "We don't associate with niggers."

Alvin gave Wayne a confused look. "Why? What's wrong with having black friends?"

"Alvin!" Wayne bellowed. "A fuckin' nigger would sooner shoot your ass for your money than try to be your friend!"

"Hey, let's watch the mouth," Dave snapped, causing Wayne to glare at him.

"I ain't never known a nigger to not break the law," Wayne continued.

Simon glared at him. "I would appreciate if you would stop using that word, please."

Wayne laughed. "What, you don't like me sayin' the word nigger?"

"No, I don't," Simon said.

"Why?" For the first time, the younger man indicated as Wesley spoke up. "What's wrong with callin' these people what they are? That's what they are – niggers."

"You know how I know niggers don't have any respect for the law?" Wayne said. He suddenly pointed out the window behind him. "'Cause there's niggers running around out there, robbing banks, killin' whatever motherfucker comes across 'em." He shook his head. "They're lucky I ain't in charge, 'cause I'd be crackin' down on 'em. You want to know how to stop that shit? If they would take these fuckin' niggers and hang their asses in front of city hall, make people watch 'em squirm until they suffocate to death, that would stop that shit."

It was here that Simon suddenly burst into laughter, slapping the table and rearing back his head to guffaw. "No, it wouldn't," he said simply.

"The hell it wouldn't," Wayne said. "I guarantee that would stop that shit. The problem with niggers is that they ain't satisfied with nothin'. They got bad attitudes – the whole lot of 'em, actin' like we owe 'em something." He shook his head. "We don't owe them shit."

Desperately wanting to change the subject, Theodore piped up, "I got an A on my Spanish test today."

Dave smiled. "Great."

Wayne shook his head. "I don't know why in the fuck we have to learn these bastards' language. We shouldn't have to fuckin' learn their language. They should have to learn ours."

Apparently this was too much for Simon because he abruptly stood up from his chair and looked over at Dave. "Dave, may I speak with you for a moment?"

Dave nodded and got up from the table, following Simon into the living room.

"Dave, I have a bad feeling about this man," Simon said. He shook his head. "He's not the kind of person I want hanging around our family."

Dave shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Simon. As soon as dinner's over, he's leaving. Just . . . try to endure the best you can."

As the two were entering the kitchen and sitting down, Theodore could be heard saying, "So you're saying you wouldn't allow your daughter to date a black man?"

"Hell, no, I wouldn't," Wayne said. "I love my daughter to death, but if she ever came home with a nigger, I'd have to tell her, 'There's the door. See you later.'"

"That doesn't make any sense," Alvin said. "What's wrong with dating black people?"

"Alvin!" Wayne cried. "You don't mix! Stick with your own kind! Says so in the Bible."

"Uh, no, it doesn't," Simon and Theodore said in unison.

Wayne nodded. "Yes, sir, it does."

"No, it doesn't," Simon snapped. "There's not a single passage in that entire Bible that comes even close to saying anything like that."

"Besides which, Moses' wife was black,' Theodore piped up.

"Well," Wayne said, "you still don't mix. You stick with your own kind. That's the way it's supposed to be. Nothing good ever came from hangin' around niggers."

"I thought I told you to stop usin' that word," Simon said, glaring.

Wayne shook his head. "Let me tell you something, boy. You are a kid. Your word don't mean shit!"

"Hey," Dave snapped, sneering at the man.

Wayne continued as if he hadn't heard Dave. "When you're out here makin' money and payin' some bills, that's when your word means something. Until then, you need to keep your mouth shut. You know what my daddy woulda done to me if I'd smarted off to him like that? My daddy woulda busted me in my mouth, knocked me across the room. I woulda been pickin' up my teeth if I'd smarted off to my daddy like that." He shook his head. "That's what's wrong with kids today. They think their opinion means something. Back when I was growin' up, you were to be seen and not heard. If I so much as opened my mouth in public, I got my ass busted."

"Really?" Dave said. "I didn't."

Wayne looked at him. "You didn't?"

Dave shook his head. "No. My parents never raised their hand to me."

Wayne nodded towards the Chipmunks. "That explains what's wrong with kids today. Parents ain't bustin' their asses."

"Last time I checked," Simon said, "that was counted as child abuse."

"No, it ain't," Wayne cried, shaking his head.

"Uh, yes, it is," Theodore said.

"No, it ain't," Wayne repeated. "That's what's wrong with parents today. It's gotten to where you can't even spank your kids without someone claimin' it's child abuse. It ain't child abuse, it's called disciplin' your kids."

"I do discipline my kids, thank you very much," Dave spoke up.

Wayne shook his head. "No, ya don't. If you ain't bustin' your kids' asses, you ain't disciplin' 'em."

"According to who?" Alvin asked.

"Alvin!" Wayne said. "It's common sense."

"My dad busted my ass all the time growin' up," Wesley said.

Wayne nodded. "Damn right I did."

Dave stood up. "I think we're through here. I would appreciate it if you would leave my house – now!"

"Yeah, I agree," Simon said, nodding his head, and he smiled seeing his brothers nodding with him.

"I tell the truth," Wayne said, standing up with Wesley. "If you don't like it, get over it."

Dave pointed to the front door. "Get out! Now!"

"I ain't leavin' without my money," Wesley said.

"Too bad," Dave snapped. "Leave – now – before I call the police!"

"Go ahead and fuckin' call the police," Wayne snapped. "Your boy cheated my son out of fifty dollars."

"Uh, no, I didn't," Simon snapped.

Wayne glared down at him. "The fuck you didn't! You sold my boy a stoled cassette deck."

"No, I didn't!" Simon stood up, glaring at Wayne.

"Boy, your best bet is keep your mouth shut!" Wayne jabbed a finger at Simon. "That's wrong with kids today! Nothin' but a bunch of smartases who think they gotta shoot their mouths off all the time!"

"First of all," Dave snapped, getting between the two of them, "don't you ever cuss at my kid!" He jabbed a finger at Wayne. "Second of all, don't you ever tell my kid to shut up! He lives in this house, he has every right to say what he wants!"

"I ain't gonna fuckin' have him getting smart with me," Wayne said.

"Alvin, what are you doing?" Dave looked down, noticing that Alvin was fiddling with his phone.

Putting his phone to his ear, Alvin said, "Calling the police." After a moment's pause, he said, "Yes, I would like to report a domestic disturbance. I have an intruder in my home who's refusing to leave. Could I have you send someone over to escort him off the premises, please? My address is 44327 Redwood Drive." He smiled. "Thank you very much. How long should that be? Fifteen minutes? Alright, I'll be here. Again thank you." He ended the call and set his phone down on the table. He smirked at the others. "Problem solved. They said they'd be here within fifteen minutes."

Dave looked back at Wayne and Wesley. "The cops will be here shortly. I suggest you leav enow while you still have the chance."

Wayne sneered down at Simon. "I'll be seeing you in court, boy."

Simon laughed uproariously at that. "Yeah, okay, whatever you say." He wiggled his fingers. "Goodbye, gentlemen. Don't let the door hit you on your way out."


End file.
